In All Things

In all things

The blade of grass
The drop of dew

The girl on the other side of the world who does not know
How much she really means
But will soon
Even if she forgets again soon after

In all things

Light
And a potential for it to go out
Just the same as for it to grow
Brighter
Than that which shines from the burning star
Around which we turn

In all things

A voice
A song that has been sung
For many years
And will continue
Long after we all have passed

In all things

I am
Nothing
But a passing breeze
A leaf
Which is carried thusly
To fall and break apart
To return once more

In all things

You

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The Oarfish Has Arisen

The Oarfish has arisen
From its home beneath the waves
It journeys from the shadowed depths
To the surface to be safe
It feels the earth’s vibrations
In the silence where it dwells
And in this way knows many secrets
Which it can nor will ever tell

The Oarfish has arisen
Board the windows
Lock your doors
Put all your children safe to bed
Bag the levees and the shores
The Oarfish has arisen
Now we wait with bated breath
To see what follows in its wake
Hoping for life, and not for death.

On a Cold Day in January

On a cold day in January
I watch
As snowflakes fall to the frozen ground
Softly
Retaining their elegant structure
To form a thin membrane across the surface of the Earth
Even in distribution
A reflection
In so many ways
Of the very symmetry each individual shape carries in it’s fragile form

In time
The air will grow warmer
And the frigid strands
Which stretch across the nearly unobservable spaces between
Will slowly melt
As their contents pool and join
To sink beneath
And travel ever onward

To Not Be Filled with Wonder

Inspired by the poem Not to Wonder by Tornadoday.

To not be filled with wonder
When staring up at the starry skies above
When looking out at the great expanse and seeing only light
In all directions
Moving
So fast
And yet so slowly
As representations of long-dead distant worlds float ceaselessly through empty space
Waiting to be discovered
Waiting to be seen
And experienced
To be known
And therefor to have existed

To not be filled with upmost awe
When gazing down through focused glass
When observing clearly a tiny realm and revealing only chance
And strings
That extend in all directions
Moving
Rapidly
And yet with such precision
Carving representations of possibilities limitless and relatively absurd in nature
Waiting to be observed
Waiting to be recorded
And understood
To be known
And therefor to have existed

Black Dog

Black dog wakes up in the morning
and looks outside
so he can see the sky;
He likes to watch the sun rise.

But then it’s back to sleep,
Gone, but for a moment,
Lost in dreams until the master cries:
“Oh, black dog… rise.”

Yearning,
Dreaming of another;
Life it seems
Is always passing us by,
As we just wonder why,
And lord how we try…
Not just
To make it out, alive…
But to live a life
Of substance,
To not break down
And fall apart and just die.

Black dog wakes up in the morning
and looks outside
so he can see the sky;
He likes to watch the sun rise.

But then it’s back to sleep,
Gone, but for a moment,
Lost in dreams until the master cries:
“Oh, black dog… rise.”
“Oh, black dog, rise…”

Let us seek to find
Every color of the sky
Back outside;
Outside,
Black dog…
Rise!

First thing, yeah first thing in the morning
the black dog wakes
and he opens his eyes;
He likes to watch the sunrise.

But then it’s back to sleep,
Gone, but for a moment,
Lost in dreams until the master cries:
“Oh, black dog… rise!”

All the World Waits

All the world waits
For you
Though surely there are times
Where it may feel
Like it is just beyond your reach
A realm unto itself
To be observed
But not to be interacted with

Know this
That you are
Not alone

There is so much that is not understood
About this place which we call home
So many facets of life
That are utterly beyond comprehension
From the grand and marvelous
To the seemingly mundane

Even the stars themselves
Which shine so bright in the stars above
Once thought to be fixed points of pure light
Infinite and absolute
Are but decomposing remnants
Scattered across great expanses of empty space
Many long dead
Remembered only by their lingering echoes

Our impact on those around us
Is not always clear
Nor can it be easily defined
By what we can immediately understand
And we are left to wonder
What purpose we serve

But just as the stars above
Though surely someday we will fade
Our legacy remains